


Inevitable

by Biltchibo



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Smut, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Hand Jobs, M/M, More fluff than smut actually, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Richie Tozier is Whipped, Smut, and a mess, no beta we die like men, this went too far once again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 03:03:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biltchibo/pseuds/Biltchibo
Summary: How to hit on your crush.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 211





	Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not even gonna say anything i'm tired of wanting to write a nice 2 thousand words simple fic and end up with a monster because i can't control myself
> 
> but this is my first smut so be kind please

Richie kind of hated New York.

The busy streets, the never-ending rush – everyone needed to get wherever the fuck at that exact moment or they’d die. Once he’d given passage to an old lady or she would pretty fucking likely _ run over _ him with her mobility scooter. And sure, Richie isn't laid back at all, he's a big ball of chaotic little shitness energy who can't stand still for more than two minutes, but that's about it. He wouldn’t push people before of him, even when a snail could surpass them, or cuss at the attendant that took a second too long to write his order down. 

But worse than the fucking people, pedestrians, he dispised the traffic – a sea of grays and whites and yellows for as far as human eye could possibly see, and angry shouts from everywhere because people hate each other. And _ God _ , Richie hated the asshole who invented horns. He also hated the other one who had the idea to put them in a car. Without them, Richie could be having a pleasant drive through New York – _ he had a day off, for fuck’s sake _ – maybe visiting Central Park or going to a movie instead of being stuck in traffic, with the front of his car smashed to filth. 

He didn't see the red light, okay? It fucking changed the exact time Richie sped up to leave the honking bitch behind him and in his defense, the guy's car basically erupted from the ground, Richie always looked both ways before infringing the law. 

It goes without saying that he was _ “upset” _ already, but this had settled in stone that he would have a shitty day. He should've listened to his horoscope and stayed home. 

Richie stepped on the breaks with the speed of lightning the same time the other guy hit the fucking horn like it's 4th of July and there are no fireworks enough to make noise and cursed his mother with a whole new vocabulary Richie had no idea it existed. 

Richie sighed exasperatedly. It wasn't that bad of a crash, if the guy had insurance it would be fixed in no time, but Richie's car was rented. Which means he fucked himself. Richie got out of the car to look at the crash half expecting to get beaten to death by a buff guy with a rottweiler tattoo because he just bumped into a fucking _ SUV _ from all the cars he could have chosen to. 

"Hey, asshat! Are you fucking colorblind or something?" he heard the SUV door open and close, "Are you fucking _kidding _me?! Look at the damage!" 

When Richie looked up, searching for the killer look from the 7-foot-tall leather-wearing bald man, he could barely see the top of the guy's head from behind the car, and when he went around the vehicle Richie had to choke back a laugh. 

He was short. Maybe not short-short, but short enough to look comical getting out of the massive car he drove. The hair was neatly arranged to the left and he wore a fucking polo shirt of all things. And it was soft _ fucking _ pink. He was cute, angry, small and exactly Richie's type of guy. Not that he knew he _had _a type until this very moment.

It would feel like revelation later, when he could have the _ "Oh shit, I'm gay" _ moment and suddenly years of fated to doom relationships would make sense, but at the present watching the guy angrily sass him about being irresponsible, Richie only knows he can't let him go without getting his number. 

"Are you even listening to me, _ asshole_? God- you better hope my insurance covers that, otherwise I'm making you fucking pay for all of it. What the hell were you doing? How do you even have a license?" he stared at Richie and clapped his hands once, surprisingly close to his face, "Are you _deaf_? I am talking to you." 

"I'm Richie Tozier," Richie smartly says. 

A flash of recognition passes through the stranger's eyes before its utterly dismissed. 

"Do you think I fucking care who you are? You think just because you're famous you can-" and this is _not _going where Richie was aiming for, so he interrupts. 

"No, I mean," he holds out a hand for him to shake, "I'm Richie Tozier, pleased to meet you," and the man looks at his palm and then back at his face like he was trying to pour holes into it with his eyes. Richie doesn't let it get to him, "I'm very sorry about your car, but you just have to look at it the right way," he says jokingly, retracting his hand and motioning between the both of them instead and putting on a Voice, "Ain’t ideal but hadn't I crashed into your metal beast, _ pal_, we wouldn't have met!" 

The man scoffed mockingly after a particularly large set of cars passed by them, honking and cursing loudly. Richie cringed at the loud noise. 

"And how's that any good? The only thing I've got since we met was _ you _ making _ me _ run late, _ dozens _ of mad people testing my patience and hundreds worth of damage," he fished his phone out of his pocket, taking pictures of the cars as proof, "I'm calling the police before someone else freaks."

Richie doesn't try to talk while he's at it, instead, he looks at the car and tries to measure on a scale of one to ten how fucked he is. _ A lot _, he figures, since the SUV's hunk body barely took any damage while the left headlight of Richie's rented convertible looked sadly bent over to the side. 

"They're coming. Are you taking responsibility for it or you're going to pretend you didn't see it like you did with the fucking red light?" 

Richie looked at the man again, a bit red in the face, cheeks that made him want to pinch them. Well fuck, you know the saying, _ when in hell do a lap dance _ or something. 

"I could make up to you?" Richie blurts out suddenly, taking the guy by surprise, "Obviously I can't fix your car or anything- Not that I won't pay for it, I will, but- Uh," Richie meets his eyes again, that were silently kind of judging him, and it shouldn't excite him the way it's doing but fuck- Richie felt like a teenager with his palms nervously sweating no matter how much he swapped them in his pants, "You should give me your number, so we can keep in touch, you know, _ on the car _…" the man squinted his eyes, not looking as mad as before (or maybe Richie was fooling himself, that wouldn't be a first), and Richie took his chances, "Or I could take you out to repay you, maybe dinner? Tomorrow?" 

He clicked his tongue, "Are you seriously hitting on me? Right after crashing into my car? You've got no sense of shame?" a smile played on his lips, to which Richie responded with his own. 

He puts on his best British impression. 

"It's not every day we are found of such beauty," he ignores the way people are starting to go around the cars, swearing at them, "Oh the dangers I would put up with only to have a chance with thou grace," that gets him a laugh and oh my, if Richie wasn't on board already he'd surely be after this. 

It ringed right to him like he heard all the laughs Richie got on his career as a comedian to find this one, to find this reaction, not laughing just with him but right at him too. It felt familiar, it felt like coming home after a long, _ long _ time. Which made it even weirder since Richie can't remember shit about being home since ever. He had parents, of course, that sent him gifts on Christmas day, like snow globes and other useless shit that he kept in a drawer in his room back at California. But they rarely talked to him, and he couldn't recall barely anything from his childhood before his sixteenth year –the last time he tried to remember, which had been years ago, he went to sleep with the world's worst migraine and swore never to try it again. He tried asking his parents once, five years ago when they went to one of his shows for the first, and last, time and the most elaborated answer he had was _ "You were a handful." _ and a couple of shoulder slaps from his father. 

But this guy, this interaction that barely lasted more than 10 minutes, felt like a breeze of fresh air in the middle of the desert. It was an oasis, all shadow and freshwater he could've ever wished for. 

"But I don't think I ever got your name?" 

The man looked at him as if pondering before looking at his phone once more and then back at him, "Eddie Kaspbrak," he glanced around, "and I think we should get out of the middle of the street. We'll be staying here for a while and you're no use if you're dead."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't mind being useful to you." 

Eddie rolled his eyes and started walking to the sidewalk, "Not like that, I meant if your dead you can't answer to anything you did here."

Richie went by his side, "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Eds" 

Eddie frowned, "That's not my name." 

Richie could see it kind of bothered him and he should stop, but damn, Eddie was so cute when he got out of the car all angry. He never thought he'd be calling a guy cute but it was _ exactly _ what Eddie was. 

"So, _ Eds _," and before the man interrupted him he continued, "what do you say? About dinner. Tomorrow, 8 pm, I know a great place."

That was a blatant lie, Richie had been in New York for exact 4 days eating nothing but take out or room service from the hotel where he was staying, but cute Eddie didn't need to know that. Except said cutie apparently knew better than to get fooled by Tozier's charms. 

He pulled an eyebrow up, skeptic. 

"Oh really, where?"

Richie swallowed dry and said the first thing that came to mind. _ Play it cool, play it chill, he doesn't need to know you're actually panicking on the perspective of him saying yes. _

"It's a very nice restaurant on 5th Avenue."

"There are many restaurants on 5th Ave. Which one?" 

And well, Richie's never even as much passed through 5th Avenue since he arrived, but thank God for Facebook's weird recommendations he never thought it would come in hand. It also helped that Richie was a _ professional bullshiter_, he's been lying to himself since forever apparently so he's gotten pretty good at it.

He swatted it off as if he couldn't quite remember the name, "It's a weird fancy name. Same of that famous suits brand?" 

Eddie stepped back, he looked kind of impressed, "Armani?" 

"Yes, that's the bitch," he smiled sideways and took a small bow, "What do you say? Give a guy a chance, would ya?" 

Eddie looked at their cars and at Richie, then at his cellphone and bit his bottom lip, "Okay, _ this_," he pointed at the ground, gazing at Richie's eyes resolutely, "will _not _be a date. Period. It's just me, hanging out with you, so we can figure out what to do about this situation," he pointed a thumb to the cars, "and I can't go tomorrow, so you take me Sunday, 7 and half _ sharp _, we eat, we talk, and you leave me back at home by 10 max. No funny business, do you understand?"

Richie feels himself smile so hard he has absolutely zero control over it.

"_Yes, sir _." 

They trade numbers and don’t talk until the cops arrive, and even then is just polite answers to what they’re asking. Not that Richie didn’t try to, he made some fair attempts, but Eddie went away to answer his phone every five minutes until 20 minutes later he turned it off, only for his pager to go insane – _ seriously, who even carried pagers these days? _ – Richie thought it was from work until he hears “I swear I’ll be there in an hour, Mommy.”

It almost kills his buzz, and it would in any other case, but hearing this just gives him a sour feeling in his guts as for the woman that he can’t quite understand. He just knows he already doesn’t like her. 

After settling everything, Eddie sent him a final look and drove away into the sunset. In reality, the scene was much less dramatic, but Richie was far too gone already. He took a cab back home – because his car got _ towed _ – and called his assistant (“ _ I’m your producer, Richie, not your babysitter. Stop calling me whenever you want to get laid. _ ”) and convinced him to get Richie another rented car (“ _ If you crash this one too and get killed I’ll have to cancel your shows this week and I’ll be really pissed at you. _”) and reservations for that restaurant.

Richie wasn’t a _ star_, as per se. He was relatively famous, which was a lot saying on a 30 years old man trying to make a career in comedy. Richie was well-known enough to make some of his performance nights full and some people recognize him in the streets as “ _ that dick comedian guy _” – which didn’t bother him at all since he was, in fact, that dick comedian guy – even if his sets weren’t remotely faithful to his reality. So they shouldn’t have a problem getting him a table.

Saturday and early Sunday came and went and Richie didn’t feel any of it. It passed so fast between making arrangements for the set and last-minute decisions he could barely keep track of time and when he looked at the clock, he was already late to get dressed calmly. So despair would have to do. It was a new feeling, to get so affected just from the idea of a date. Especially with a _ man_.

If Richie were to be honest, he wouldn’t be surprised. He should’ve have suspected, he’d always been weirdly fixated in Tom Cruise in Top Gun during his teenage years, then paid more attention than what he was comfortable admitting to Terri when it felt like he should to Lara Croft, or when Johnny Depp appeared to become his Hollywoodian crush, it was very obvious now. But Richie _ wasn’t _ honest. He was a comedian, he made jokes about dating women and masturbating to hot girls when that couldn’t be farthest from the truth.

He hurried through the shower, putting on a white long-sleeved shirt with pineapples in it, jeans and perfume (“_ because Eddie deserved that extra mile” _ ), taking his jacket on the way out because New York decided to be cold as fuck during the last week. Richie drove to the address Eddie had texted him and for the first time in his entire life he wasn’t remotely late, instead he planned on spending 10 minutes outside his porch before knocking on Eddie’s door, but two minutes into that plan and Richie had already scanned through all radio stations – Beyonce _ everywhere _ – and checked his emails thrice, so he said fuck it and marched to the door. Before he could even ring the bell, the door opened, revealing one of the sexiest visions he’d ever been blessed to see. 

Richie doesn't know what made the image so appealing, Eddie wasn’t dressed too differently from two days ago, but the ironed white dress shirt that kind of hugged around his chest was just… _ Wow_. Maybe it was the pants? Those were probably the tightest jeans he’s ever seen a man wear, Richie was sure he could see how his thigh muscles stretched the fabric if he were to shamelessly stare a bit. Or maybe it was the sort of " _ I'm not saying I'm into you but take me to dine and wine _" confident posture that made him wobble on his knees. 

"You're early," Eddie said, matter of factly. 

"And you were waiting for me," Richie tried not to sound cocky and failed miserably. A smile of satisfaction creeping up as red-tinted the other's cheeks. 

Eddie cleared his throat, "Are we standing outside my door all night or you're going to take me on?" 

Richie grinned, "_ Oh my_, that's a little forward of you isn't it?" despite it they walked to the car, Eddie locking the door before meeting up with Richie holding the convertible – yes he asked for another one – door open for him, "Go ahead, sweetie."

Eddie scoffed, accepting the offer. 

"Don't call me that." 

Richie closed the door and went around the car, "Whatever you want, Eds." 

Eddie frowned and kept frowning as he heard the song playing on the random station on the radio. 

“Were you listening to Carrie Underwood?”

He was. He was also singing to it because Carrie gave such a badass energy it’s like he could do anything and Richie _ really _ needed that vibe, otherwise, he wasn’t even sure he’d manage to get out of the car in the first place. Richie started the engine, pulling out of the parking.

“No,” he said, not convincingly at all.

Eddie turned around to stare at him and it suddenly Richie understood how it must have felt for Andy to be under Miranda Priestly’s gaze, vulnerable and bare-naked under the overwhelming analytical look. Eddie bit back a smile.

“You were! You so were, it’s written all over your face.”

“So what? She’s a hit! Don’t tease me about it when your favorite band is probably _ Bon Jovi _.”

Eddie sounded outraged, “What’s wrong with Bon Jovi?”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m right,” he snorts and Eddie slaps him in the arm, not hard enough to be meaningful, “There’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just plain boring!”

“_How dare- _Living on a Prayer is a classic! Everybody likes Bon Jovi.”

Richie nodded, “And that’s why it’s so boring,” Richie glanced at Eddie, who was fully staring at him and clenching at his seatbelt, “Come on, be bold, tell me you love a band I’d never imagine you liking.”

Eddie stood in silence, stoically looking ahead, and Richie started to think that _ maybe _ he wasn’t going to answer.

“Rolling Stones,” Eddie says and Richie sees him biting his bottom lip, “I mean, I’m not a fan but… I don’t know, I’ve liked them since forever, I don’t know where it came from.”

Richie immediately thinks back to his well-worn Rolling Stones’ t-shirt he's had as far as he can remember and maybe it’s a coincidence, but he just keeps thinking that it’s right. This is right.

“So not a pop singer then? I’m impressed, I was half expecting you’d say Lady Gaga,” Eddie groaned again.

For a while, all Richie did was pay attention to the road – he wouldn’t risk another accident, especially with someone as a passenger – and Eddie humming to the song on the radio while searching through Richie’s very packed CD display. And then Richie had a glimpse, a very weird vision, of an old racked yellow Chevrolet rilling down damaged streets he couldn’t quite recognize, blasting Guns and Roses at full volume. It was almost as a dream, a forgotten hazy dream he had once upon a time.

“Hey asswipe,” Eddie poked his ribs and only then he noticed he was straying from his side of the track, “Are you even paying attention? You might enjoy flirting with death but I don’t.”

Richie put a smile to his face, trying to deflect the attention from his disturbed look, “The only one I like to flirt with is you, sweet Eds.”

Eddie looked at him funny, tilting his head a bit to the side, “You’re being weird.”

And _ that _ was weirder. Richie knew he wasn’t the epitome of finesse, but people also didn’t push when he so obviously avoided something.

“How would you know that? For all you met me I could be this weird, this could be my normal weird, there’s nothing wrong,” as he said before, he wasn’t subtle.

“I just _ know _,” Eddie puffed, annoyed, “Don’t ask me on it. You’re being weird, why?”

Richie kept looking forward, they were almost at the restaurant, New York lights glowing a little too hard to his comfort. Another thing to add to the long list of why he didn’t like this damn city.

His producer, Andrea, says he should move somewhere busier, where it would be easier to do shows and participate and be more accessible, but there’s no help, he just hates this fucking city. Richie clears his throat, stealthily (he wishes) looking at Eddie with the corner of his eyes.

“Just… Leave it,” he says, lastly, “We should focus on our date night, Eds.”

Eddie snorts and tries, an honorable attempt, to hide his smile.

“That’s not my name,” Eddie says, not heatedly at all, “and it’s not a date.”

Richie smiles, pulling over the parking lot and turning to look at him, "Keep telling yourself that." 

Dinner couldn't have started more awkward than how it did. At first, their synergy was good but they couldn’t have more different lives. Richie was a comedy rising star flying all around America and Eddie had just been promoted in his job and had no interest in going looking for another place to be for a while now. Every subject would be entertained for a few seconds and then fall apart, and the most infuriating thing was that Richie couldn’t fucking understand _ why _! He had dated before, and the dates had led him to bed several times, but no amount of flirting or dirty talk had ever made him feel this exposed and uncomfortable, making even some of his jokes feel flat even to his ears, and being said that they weren’t even flirting! Eddie was adamant on his words of not being a date.

Richie thought about calling the night off – this had clearly been a mistake and there was no reason to extend their misery – when suddenly it clicked. Richie was talking about his set and Eddie roasted him because really, could it be that bad? – The answer is yes. — and when Richie started with a comeback-

“_Beep beep, Richie_,” Eddie said, absently, probably not even noticing he did before taking another bite of his langoustine (with no butter because he was lactose intolerant).

And Richie fell quiet, smiling to his glass not quite knowing why, warm hitting your cheeks. Eddie looked up, noticing his sudden quietness with frowned eyebrows.

“Did I say something? Why did you stop”

And Richie was confused too. 

"Uhh- Do you- do you want me to continue?" 

"No? I mean, yes? I mean-" Eddie cleared his throat, taking a sip of his wine as well "Not that I _ enjoy _ you talking or anything, but you were suddenly all quiet again and-" his voice trailed off because he couldn't talk. He couldn't because Richie was once again looking at him like two days before, with this mischievous glint in his eyes and a playful smile on the tip of his lips. 

From then on, things went much more smoothly. 

It seemed like they had found their pace, and not even once did Eddie mention something about the car. They talked about nothing too much personal, Eddie seemed more like the retracted kind of guy, Richie concluded. He’d usually avoid his cravings, because they were no good for him, as he had a very fragile health. _ Bullshit_, Richie thought, _ he could probably crush him between his thighs _ – not that Richie would mind that either. So when Richie felt a foot going up to his calf as Eddie’s smile played on his lips he felt oh so incredibly lucky, feeling like he was finally allowed to flirt, _ properly_. They went back and forth for some time until the waitress asked if they wanted dessert, Eddie pursing his lips before looking at Richie questionably and denying, hands playing with his in what was possibly an invitation.

The ride back was full of laughter and some double meaning jokes and Richie accompanied him to the porch where he’d taken Eddie. For a hot second of Eddie hesitating with his keys on the door, not looking at Richie, he thought, _ well at least it wasn’t a disaster_, when Eddie turned around, holding his collar and pulling him down for an eager (and somewhat aggressive for a) first kiss.

And it took a few seconds for him to correspond with the same enthusiasm due to the element of surprise, but as soon as he did, Richie grabbed Eddie’s waist, pushing back against him as well. The kiss was heated and soon their tongues pressed together in a firm, open-mouthed kiss. Electricity sparked and ran through Richie’s entire spine and he pulled closer, not caring if they were outside.

Eddie pulled back, panted once and turned around, opening the door, “I just wanted to test something,” he entered and Richie was still on the porch, waiting for the door to close at his face and leaving him to deal with the whole number Eddie did on him with just one kiss, but Eddie stood there, looking at Richie and seeming more impatient by the seconds, holding the door open, “_ Do you want a verbal invitation _?”

Not waiting for another cue, Richie entered.

Any kind of funny remark was forgotten as soon as the door closed and he was pushed against it, feet slipping a little with the impact so they were at the same height, which seemed like exactly what Eddie wanted at the moment. Eddie parted once again and took his shoes off with his feet as he walked to the middle of the living room, leaving them in the way. He shrugged his coat off and tossed it over a pretty looking white chair by the television, turning around with an eyebrow lifted.

“Well?”

_ Oh God_, he breathed, _ oh god that was happening_.

He fought against his jacket, trying to get it out of his body as if it burned, when it got stuck, you know, like the moron he was. He heard Eddie’s low laugh as he got closer, putting a hand on both sides of his face.

“You’re adorable,” he said, and Richie thought _ hey that’s my line _ before it was quickly scratched when Eddie’s lips were on his again, this time slow and passionate as they moved against each other, his hands traveling down to help him out of the death trap he got in. Arms enlacing Eddie once again when he was free, and separating only for a moment to hear Eddie adding, “My room is turning left.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Richie never got to admire the tiny house that night, the carefully painted walls and furniture well-kept, neither the organized room with matching white bedsheets. It fit perfectly with Eddie’s personality, but that didn’t matter, because there was a bed waiting for them.

Feeling bold, his hands made their way across Eddie’s back until they were secured on a very round ass, he gave them one nice squeeze, kind of mourning that they weren’t his final destination, but making a note to go there again once he could. He kept going until he could tug Eddie’s thighs up, with Eddie reading his moves in perfect synchrony and meeting him halfway, jumping to intertwine them around Richie’s waist.

He carried Eddie to the room, letting him down as soon as they reached the bed. They stopped kissing long enough to pull Eddie's shirt over his head. 

“I think the date is going pretty well,” said Richie, fumbling with Eddie’s zipper while he tried to undo the buttons on Richie's shirt. Fingertips burning his skin on the way down to his belt. 

Eddie smiled wickedly, “It’s not a date," he pulled it open. 

Richie put on a voice, "He said, casually putting his hand on my dick." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, pushing Richie back enough so he could get up, “You’re _ so _ annoying.”

He slipped the rest of his jeans down his legs in a fluid motion and Richie could die on the spot right there and he'd still happy. Eddie wasn't overly muscled but he could see every definition he had, from that hypnotic chest to the unholy thighs to the curve of that rounded butt, Eddie was the type of guy who could probably get numbers from not-so-straight-anymore guys. Richie would example as himself, but he isn't sure he was ever that straight to start with. On top of it all – or maybe bottom would be better suited — he wore fucking hip shorts, low enough to start on his pubic hair and doing nothing but to flatter both front and back. Richie didn't think he'd be able to survive past this night. 

“And you’re still letting me in your roo-” he yelps as Eddie pushes him, surprisingly strong for someone that size, and he falls into a soft bed, the mattress hugging him as he weighed down.

“Shut up already,” then Eddie’s straddling him, both already half-formed erections touching, and Richie was happy to comply. 

Eddie attacked his lips again, the ferocity back as he bit him and his hands scraped easily at Richie's back. Not wanting to stay behind, Richie's own hands grabbed tight at Eddie's waist, caressing up and down until they worked courage enough to fulfill his previous promise and grab a handful of Eddie's ass cheeks, holding firmly and pulling them ever so slightly apart, hearing Eddie's gasps at that. 

"Richie, fuck-" Eddie arched forward, sending a jolt up Richie's spine as he felt their cocks touch. Once, twice and Eddie's mouth traveled down his chin, kissing and sucking and biting and- _ Ouch! _ That'll leave a mark for the next day, but Richie couldn't give two fucks about it, if anything, it would prove this wasn't just a hallucination his horny brain came up with. 

Letting him hump their bodies together until they were on edge and Eddie couldn't quite keep moving just by himself, holding on Richie's shoulders for support, Richie turned them around.

"There, there, let me take care of you will ya?" he kissed Eddie's collarbone, blowing the curve of his neck and feeling Eddie _ curl _ below him. He looked down and went for the main attraction. 

Richie could see a wet spot on his underwear, marking the tip of one very precisely outlined cock, not because it was big (it was a nice size, saying from Richie's experience on dicks, top-notch material you have there good sir) but because it was _ that _ hard. The vision made his throat go dry and his mouth starts to water, Richie hadn't thought that was a possible reaction to seeing someone's dick, but apparently, it was. 

He went down on him, approaching and pulling the fabric down excruciatingly slowly, and Eddie's lips let out a whimper as hips thrust forward in a small motion, a clear sign that Richie needed to do whatever the fuck he was gonna do _faster_. 

Richie smirked, looking at Eddie's face pleasantly red, swollen lips parted in shallow breaths and eyes closed shut from expectation. He traveled down, because honestly Richie hadn't gotten a good look at him when they undressed, and _ damn _ Eddie was flushed at his chest too, crippling down from his neck and he looked _ straight out of Richie's fantasies_, Eddie looked like an erotic painting, Richie could pin him into a wall and look at him all day long and he wouldn't be tired of him. His eyes went further to the now exposed length. Richie swallowed dry, getting closer to kiss the inside of Eddie's strong and irresistibly beautiful thighs. He went around, placing quick smooches on his hips, biting his hipbone just not strong enough to hurt or mark. 

"Richie, _ I swear to God_, if you keep teasing me and do nothing I'm going to fucking _ kick _ you in the face."

"Geez, didn't know you were into footplay, _ Eds _ ," he teased and Eddie let out a moan when Richie licked a stripe on the side of his dick as he was about to reprimand the other, "I'm sorry, were you going to say something?" he pulled the foreskin down, running his tongue flat around the tip, " _ So bossy _." 

Eddie didn't have time to think a coherent answer before Richie pulled him into his mouth, putting just the head at first because he had _ no fucking idea _ of what he was doing besides the experience he gained from the immensity of amateur porn he watched these past two days. The taste was different and Richie could feel his own dick _ twitching _ in response to Eddie's soft moan. He was so hard already he didn't care if they didn't go forward and beyond that night, he wanted Eddie to feel _ good_, and oh gods he could probably get off to that thought alone. 

"Richie, _ fuck- _ Fuck!" Eddie whimpered as Richie took him a bit further on his mouth, bobbing his head up and down slowly, taking care of the movement to not rasp his teeth against the soft skin. 

It wasn't by far the best blowjob someone had received in history – hell, Richie had received better ones than what he was giving – but looking up he saw Eddie's eyes covered by his arm and his lips bit to fight down the noises, _ the beautiful noises_, he was letting out. 

Richie patted his arm, stopping the movements until Eddie looked at him and that earned him a soft whine of complain. Eddie looked at him and keeping eye contact Richie started swallowing him down again, and pulling back to a stalling position when Eddie held back another moan. Eddie squinted his eyes, face trying to screw up back to that angry expression he did so well, falling apart as Richie went once more, this time barely succeeding on keeping his voice down. Richie sent him a pointed look. 

"Okay, okay, I'll stop, just go ahea-" he choked mid-sentence as Richie brought his hand back to help him in the task as he kept going, holding the base of his cock in a firm grip with shallow thrusts, "My neighbors are gonna hate you," Eddie reached for Richie's mess of a hair, not strong enough to take control of the pacing but tugging it as the voice echoed in the room, "Oh my _ fucking _ God-" 

_ No need to call me God _, Richie thought, but that thought was instantly replaced with the image of Eddie's arching his back forward, squirming to his touch as the other hand went up again, caressing his hard nipples.

He didn't think of patting his own hard erection pleading for attention on his trousers, neither cared when it twitched _ painfully_, demanding some relief. All he could think was that he had Eddie right there, under his gaze, under his hands, and how he wanted to hold him and make this the most memorable impression so that Eddie wouldn't be able to forget him even if he tried. If Richie weren't currently busy, he wouldn't understand why just the thought of Eddie forgetting left him hopeless, but he was, so he hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder, delighting on Eddie softly calling his name again.

“_Richie, I’m not- _ I won’t last-” he sobbed as Richie pulled back one last time, breathing erratically. Richie wouldn’t be surprised if he reached for his inhaler.

Richie stopped mid-thought, when had Eddie mentioned he had an inhaler?

Eddie pulled him upwards, kissing him without a care in the world, very contradicting to the all cleanse guy show he put all night because that mouth was indeed in a dick seconds before.

“What do you want to do?” Richie asked when they broke apart, Eddie’s hands caressing his scalp, pulling his hair ever so slightly from time to time as they shared another kiss.

He definitely did not know how to properly handle if things went further – he read articles on it, okay? Richie did his first serious research in life and of course it was about butt sex – and he strongly doubted Eddie did, and he really didn’t want to risk hurting perfect Eddie and scaring him from what he wanted to be a remarkable experience. Call him a sap if you want.

Eddie was embarrassed again all of sudden, “I- I don’t,” he looked at Richie again, eyes as round as insecure and Richie shared the feeling, “I’m _ not- _”

Richie pecked his lips, “We don’t have to do anything today,” kissing him once again, capturing lightly at his bottom lip between his teeth, “We’ll keep something for next time.”

“Next time?” Richie felt Eddie’s hands tug harder, pulling him down and closer to him, close enough they were brushing against Richie’s not so thin fabric of underwear, Eddie jolted up fully grinding their hips together and they both groaned, Eddie panting next to his ear “Okay, yeah, _ next time _.” 

Richie hissed as he felt one of Eddie’s hand go down, freeing him of what it felt like a prison. 

It was almost embarrassing how fast they'd both come undone from then, but neither of them cared enough when they'd both been so high on climax. Richie couldn't recall a time he felt this, so _ intense_, especially from just a handjob. They stayed there for a few more seconds, Richie's still on top of him, both breathing like they'd just ran a marathon. Goddammit, Richie definitely needed to exercise. 

He kind of collapsed on top of Eddie, who slapped his arm until he _"fucking get up, asshole, you think you weight a plume but you don't"_ and rolled to the side. Coming back to his senses, Richie felt himself getting more and more aware of the present situation. He just made out with a guy like a damn _horny virgin teenager_ – worst than that, he fucking _came _as fast as a horny virgin teenager just from being touched by his crush's hand. And now he was laid on a bed, that wasn't his, and he could think about was that that was the moment where Eddie would kick him out of the house to get it cleaned from strangers, telling Richie he may cal but never end up doing anyway because Richie opened him a door but that didn't mean he had to cross it with him. He thought about never seeing again and his heart clenched painfully and Richie felt like crying.

His thoughts being thrown out of the window as Eddie snuggled on his side, getting comfortable with his head on Richie's neck. 

Honest to God he never felt more at peace. 

"Hey, Eds," he called. Looking down he saw Eddie's eyes almost closing, a small smile resting on his lips to which Richie couldn't stop from responding with his own. He'd planned on making a joke, "I'm glad I met you."

Eddie peeked through his eyelashes with one eye only, "Oh, you mean when you crashed my car?" he snorted, "I had to take the _ subway _ the day after, do you know how easily you can get sick in public transport? My car's still on repair, you know? I would have to take the subway again Monday and that is not an experience I want to take a second round." 

_ Do you want to go a second round? _

"Does it means you're free tomorrow?" 

Eddie got up fully sitting on the bed, looking offended, "Does it mean I'm- _ No! I'm not! _ It just means I can work from home sometimes!" he eyed Richie suspiciously, who was still lazily smiling, "Anyways, don't you work? How do you have so much free time? Don't you have like, rehearsals or some shit to do?"

"I'm in the middle of a tour, so I usually work at noon or night. And I do have rehearsal, hours and hours of it. Just not a day before the show," he pulled Eddie back down by his arm, "It's usually a week before and then is just practice and practice and practice and-" he started nibbling at Eddie's ear and smiled when he earned a satisfied sigh. 

"Ok, I get it."

"Oh, you sure _ will _." 

Eddie pushed him, palm across his entire face, but he was laughing, "You're fucking ridiculous." 

"And you love me."

Eddie arched an eyebrow, "Bold words for someone about to get kicked out of my bed." 

"And I'm still here _ aren't I _?" he flopped down once again, smiling teasingly, “Are you going soft on me?” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, coming close to the same position he was lying half on top of Richie, as he held Eddie's torso against him. A pleasant warm feeling of familiarity and domesticity. 

When he thought Eddie was already asleep, he heard him saying in a silent voice, almost as if so no one else but him would listen, "I'm glad I met you too." 

His heart did a swell, a leap, it tap-danced on his ribs, it felt like it could burst at any given second. Richie bit his lip to stop himself from more emotional than he should probably be with a guy on the first date. 

"Just so you know I don't _ adult _ very good, it's a fair warning before we marry."

Eddie barked out a laugh, "That is very sweet of you, but I don't plan on dating you." 

Richie didn't seem by far unfazed at that, "Sure thing, _ cutie _. Give it a few days."

x-x-x-x-x

There were 2 minutes before Richie had to go on stage. He was all ready, the tickets were sold out, the house that night was full and it had been a good day, _ so why _ , anyone in a sane state of mind would ask, _ why was he throwing up backstage_, face contorted in confusion and nervousness with that weird eyebrow tick that always gave him away. 

Turns out Mike had the worst timing in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> Before you kill me, the last bit is 10 years later, so they had plenty of happy time there okay? Okay.  
You can find me on tumblr here: [Biltchibo](http://biltchibo.tumblr.com)  
I'm not always there, but if you want, hit me up some prompt and I might be able to pull a drabble (or maybe headcanons?), or I can at least try.


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